


Fortune Ascent

by VincentsEyebrows



Category: Blur (Band)
Genre: M/M, Smut, fluff if you squint, love / hurt, mentions of drug abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 03:58:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16987623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentsEyebrows/pseuds/VincentsEyebrows
Summary: Most words are left unspoken between them.(Or the one where Damon comes home late at night to find Graham waiting for him)





	Fortune Ascent

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry my descriptions keep getting worse. I hope you enjoy this, it’s like my brain can only produce negative stuff lately ngl

Damon walked into their small London apartment, his shoes drenched from the never ending rain, creating small footprints that marked his route through their carpet. Tired eyes marked by dark skin patches searched the dimly lit room, illuminated only by the first streaks of morning light, cigarette still burning in his mouth. “Grams, I’m home.”

“It’s 6 in the morning.” Murmured Graham, leaning against the window. The mundane sigh that Damon left was all too familiar, as irritation begun to spark between them and cause for their eyes to serve their own, unforgiving, glares.

“What’s it to you?” The words bit back like snake teeth. Damon threw his cigarettes on the coffee table and kicked his shoes off. He didn't even want to look Graham in the eye.

“You’re high.” It was more of an observation than a hurtful remark.

“You’re drunk.” Damon shot back, in his state of mid twitching, gingerly making his way to the window where Graham stood. His eyes, once sparkling a glassy blue, fixed on his partner's, now gloom and tired under the soft rays of light, seizing Graham's entire physique with a hint of malice.

“Fuck you, Damon.”

“Fuck me, Grams.” Damon smashed their lips together with a smirk, cupping Graham’s neck with his cold hands, still frozen from the outside, but sweaty from all the substances he had indulged in. Graham was tired of the smell of smoke and beer coming from his lover's lips, but he was in no place to talk, not when the empty bottles of wine piled around the couch.

Graham brought his hands to Damon's shoulders and gripped on them, feeling his built underneath- And Graham swore, he was going to push him off, but his body decided that turning them around and pushing Damon into he window was a better idea. He heard his back thump into the glass, maybe he had pushed too rough, but he tried not to care. The bastard deserved it. He grabbed at Damon's throat and pushed his head back, before his hand slithered back and settled for his nape, their lips parting in spite of Damon's clawing hands. “You can't keep doing that.”

Graham was full of glares and cutting remarks, but Damon did that adorable thing, where he bit his lips in excitement, and Graham, through their own, little, hateful, encounter, with his hand remaining tightly fixed into Damon’s curls, remembered why he loved him. It stung like a poisoned blade in the gut when all he wanted to do was slap him and wipe the smugness off his face. But like always, Graham’s grip turned soft and his lips started kissing his neck apologetically, because in the end, he really fucking loved Damon.

“Can't I?”

“I hate you when you're high.” Graham whispered through his heavy breaths, forehead pressed against Damon's, his sweat mixing with his lover's cold one. He hated Damon's smirk, taunting him from his perfect place of concealed emotions. Because Graham new, Damon was hurting as well, he was just better than him at hiding it.

“You always hate me.” Damon raveled in the the sounds of Graham moaning against his throat as his hand worked him, having slipped underneath his sweatpants. “But you're still hard for me.”

“I hate you.” Graham grabbed at the back of Damon's thighs, lips hovering close to his ear as he pressed himself into his hand, rutting against his palm in drunken bliss, and moaned lowly. “I love you,” He wasn't sure which one it was anymore, neither of them did.

Damon didn't respond, but the nuzzle on Graham's neck spoke better than he could had. Graham's grip on his legs tightened and soon he had him off the ground, Damon’s arms securing around his neck, to ensure their balance, as their lips smashed together for once more and Graham stumbled towards their room, Damon turning the door handle and making sure they didn't collide with the door frame.

Graham threw him on the bed and climbed between his legs, searching hands finding the buckle of his belt and pulling it free off his oversized jeans. When he looked up, he caught Damon's eyes, staring at him in the half light, wide, full of excitement. He pushed his lover's shirt up his chest and delved in for his stomach, pressing long and messy kisses down his body, worshiping him in his own way, until his mouth collided with the buckle of his pants. He undid them with clumsy hands and pulled them down his thighs. Damon shifted underneath him, trying to tug his shirt off his head, until Graham could see his beaded necklace resting atop of prominent collarbones.

Graham kissed the skin of Damon's pale thighs hungrily, his teeth pressing into taut flesh and bringing the best of sounds out of Damon, cockiness slowly vanishing from his attitude as his fingers twisted into dark strands of hair. “Gra...mm...” Incoherent noises filled Graham's peripheral hearing as his mouth wrapped around the tip of Damon's length, his hand tagging at the base and making Damon arch in need. His free hand dragged patterns with his nails down his partner's thigh, the underlying need to hurt him as much as Damon hurt him with his behaviour ever so present. Damon's hips bucked into his mouth, trying to get more friction, mindlessly working himself towards a climax so selfish that would had even left himself gaping if he was in a state of near soberness, long fingers clawing at his partner's scalp.

Graham pulled away with a loud gasp, a string of spit still connecting his mouth with Damon's cock as he took deep breaths, his eyes focusing on Damon's heaving chest and the disheveled state he was in, back arched and mouth hanging ajar. “You're the worst.” Graham whispered as he came face to face with Damon, their breaths mixing together and their lips brushing against one another's as he carefully stroked his lover, movements slow and maddening.

Damon opened his eyes, vacant blue fixing into the warmth of Graham's hazel as his chin tilted up, his breath falling heavy from his moistened lips. “Please, more,” he whispered, voice dropping to a tone that he knew worked wonders on Graham. He worked his hips up needily, thrusting into his lover's fist as Graham looked at him like a starving wolf would stare at his prey. Rummaging noises filled his cloudy head and he tried his hardest not to close his eyes as Graham's lube slicked fingers started massaging at his entrance, his knees securing on both sides of his partner's waist and gripping down, trapping Graham between his legs. “Need you, Grams,”

Graham pressed two of his fingers into Damon's heat and watched him arch, eyes fluttering in anticipation. His other hand grabbed at Damon's throat and all but slammed his head against the headboard, the little whine followed by a smirk so satisfied that could put a hyena to shame stirring familiar heat into Graham's gut. “Eyes on me.”

Damon's head rolled further back, exposing his throat further into Graham's grip, to the point where they could both feel his Adam's apple bobbing up and down into Graham's hand. His hold tightened as his fingers worked him faster and as Damon's chest started heaving. His eyes remained challenging, fixed on Graham's with a hint of malice as his mouth made a total contrast to his gaze, sickly sweet with the sounds that escaped him.

Graham's hand slipped from Damon's neck to his chin, to take a grip that held the entirety of his jaw and squeezed his hollow cheeks up. “Don't look so smug now.” Graham's voice came off panting as he worked Damon open with three of his fingers, the neediness in his lover's eyes almost overthrowing his hateful facade.

“Enough, Graham, enough. I want you-” Damon's head hit against the headboard for once more as Graham fingered that spot into him, his eyes rolling back and his mouth hanging open mid sentence, just to let out the kind of moan that only Graham knew how to draw out of him. His hands fisted into Graham's sweater and started yanking at it persistently, in spite of Graham's attempts to slow him down.

Frustrated, Graham pulled himself into a sitting position and pulled the sweater off, only now realising, in the early mid-light, how flustered and damp with perspiration Damon was. He couldn't tell if it were the sweats of smack or if it was the effect of their intimacy, or both. Graham knew that he shouldn't care, but he found himself concerned as Damon started kicking his pants off and he helped him with them. He did quick work of his own pants and shoved them down his thighs, now the both of them stark naked into the quietness of their room.

Graham hovered over Damon again, settled between his thighs- And he was just about to ask, full of concern, if he was okay, but Damon's hand found his mouth and pressed flat against it. “Don't.” It was a simple phrase, but the way his voice lingered was indicator enough that he wasn't in the mood to return to the reality of rational thought. With a bite of his lips and playful eyes, he pushed at Graham, until he got the hint and let Damon get on top, straddling his waist with his thighs. Graham's hands found his hips and pulled him closer, until Damon's hands pressed on the headboard and they were hovering inches apart, short breaths mixing with quiet moans as he lowered himself on Graham's cock.

Damon smirked at the sight of Graham, arching his back and fighting to keep his mouth closed as he slowly rolled his hips, and fuck, did he feel satisfied that he could mess him like that. They both paused, basking in each other's gaze, needy, full of lust. It was a matter of who was going to break first. Damon took hold of Graham's glasses and pulled them off his face, just to let them rest on the nightstand, loving the look of confusion that spread on the guitarist's face. That was the cue for Damon to start moving his hips, at the very same time that Graham started thrusting into him. His head rolled back into his shoulders, creating the perfect arch that made his Adam's apple glisten in the pale light.

“Damon, fuck-” Graham gasped, and in spite of his hazy vision, he let his hands run down Damon's back, nails dragging down his sweat glistened skin and leaving red, streaky marks. He grabbed at the back of Damon's neck and pulled him down for a sloppy kiss, hands burying in his hair and holding him still as their hips rolled in unison, broken moans and gasps escaping them as the bed creaked underneath them. It wasn't like Damon didn't know what he was doing, but Graham knew how to piss him off. Grabbing him from the hips, he started guiding his movements, moving their bodies at his own rhythm. Which, in return, wasn't bad, judging from the way Damon's body tensed and he tightened down around Graham, but he hated being told how to do things.

Damon bit Graham's lips as the hold on his hips remained firm, a small grunt escaping him as Graham grabbed his wrists and they fought for a minute, shoving at each other's arms. Graham overpowered him easier than he normally would, had Damon been sober, and pushed him into the mattress. He held his lover's jaw in his hand and kissed him hungrily, Damon's choked out moans meeting Graham's halfway as they engaged in their sloppy kiss. Graham rolled his hips faster, until Damon's back arched off the mattress and his hands gripped viciously on Graham's. “Close, Grams,” He purred in his panting voice, his eyes fixed into the ceiling, threatening to roll back.

All previous resentment seemed to vanish from him the moment Damon started squeezing around him, his cock glistening with precum and his face so flushed that it would put his post-concert looks to shame. Graham delved forward and started pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck, which turned into bites as he started stroking him in time with his thrusts. He felt him shift and moan, his hands desperately clutching at Graham's hair as he fucked right into that spot that made him see stars. And they both did, as they reached the peak and their bodies started following uneven patterns, their hands grabbing everywhere they could reach as gasps and groans left their mouths.

Graham still held Damon's face in his hand, watching his expression twist as he came, his eyebrows shooting up and his eyes half closed, voice caught in a silent groan. “Damon, fuck,” Graham thrusted for a few last times as Damon arched into him, holding his body close as his eyes rolled back, loud moan buried into his partner's neck as he finished inside.

They stayed still like that for a few long moments that felt a lot like eternity, just catching their breaths and raveling in each other's warmth. Touches slowly turned tender, Graham's fingertips caressing Damon's nape and playing with his hair. In return, Damon nuzzled his neck, pressing his face into it and breathing deeply as they both came down from their high. “I love you.” Graham whispered into his hair and gently caressed at his hips, touches giving out nothing but affection.

“I know,” Damon murmured, tiredly. “Love you too.”

With a kiss on Damon's head, he carefully pulled away and laid by his side, finally letting his back rest flat as he patted around for his glasses. By the time his eyes focused, he saw Damon struggling into the black turtleneck that he had previously been wearing. “That's mine.” Graham murmured with a soft smile.

“Too bad.” Damon smirked, now snuggled into Graham's sweater. Gingerly, he stood and reached for Graham’s pants, in order to retrieve his cigarettes. He plopped onto the bed by his partner’s side, feeling his hand caress his waist the moment he came close. He lit them both one fag, which they shared in silence, just looking out of the window as the city begun to wake. 

“Can’t sleep?” Damon whispered after a while, throwing a glance Graham’s way. 

“Don’t want to.” Graham reached out to caress Damon’s cheek, which was now growing paler as he cooled down. 

“Want to go to the rooftop?” 

“Like this?” Graham looked at him incredulously. They weren’t even wearing underwear, for God’s sake. 

Damon shrugged and leaned down with a smirk. “Morning Glory.” 

For the first time tonight, Graham mimicked his cheeky smirk.


End file.
